Seeds of Destruction
by Lucinda
Summary: Just after the Second World War, Darla met a young man with fascinating potential...
1. Seeds of Destruction

Seeds of Destruction  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13 for violence and references to WW2  
  
main characters: Darla, Erik - there is no pairing.  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Darla (she belongs to Joss Whedon of Buffy), I hold no legal rights to Erik (who belongs to Marvel Comics).  
  
Distribution: Paula, Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL - anyone else ask.   
  
note: Shortly after the close of World War 2, there was an encounter....  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Darla walked along the streets, looking at the wreckage of the once glorious city. Centuries of history ravaged by this war. But it had been... memorable. Times were changing, and the glorious days when war meant hundreds of men bloody and dying in the aftermath, the battlefields welcoming the presence of hunters to gorge upon the dead and dying were gone. Oh, there had still been hundreds left dead or dying on the battlefields, but now the battlefields were no longer so safe. Now, instead of mere caltrops and tripwires to slow the advance of their foes, armies left trip-wire triggered grenades, and mines. Sentries didn't just call alarm anymore, they would shoot anything that didn't give the proper identification. Oh, times were definitely changing.  
  
Considering the things that she'd learned of the now-deposed Fuhrer's sanctioned orders, she wasn't certain that these changes were good. He'd decided that there was a hated minority among his land, the dreadful Jews, and galvanized his nation to hate and despise them. It wasn't really a new thing, and despite the fact that there really wasn't anything more or less 'despicable' about Jews than any other identifiable ethnic group, the hate had spread. She'd laughed about it, watching from the darkness, watching as neighbor turned against neighbor. Darla had stopped laughing when they'd began hauling the Jews away, her amusement halted by a vague sense of alarm that had caused her to investigate the 'detainment centers'. The'yd been taken far away, and sorted, those deemed unhealthy or too old just... executed, shot and left in great pits, or taken into a building whose smoke had the peculiar bitterness of burned human flesh. She'd been stunned, and despite her own excess and taste for violence, these camps had appalled her. To think that humans were doing such things to each other... and she knew that considering every sort of prison in the past had concealed further degradation and suffering within it's walls... she'd shuddered at the idea.  
  
But that had been ended with the fall of the Third Reich. The army was being disbanded now, the economy and treasury already gone, claimed as reparation by the alliance of victorious nations. The death camps had been discovered, the skeletal populations that still walked liberated from the physical confines of the camp. But how many of those people had truly survived? She'd long ago learned that survival wasn't just a matter of breathing, of the heart beating. Mortals could walk around, their hearts beating for years after the single vital spark that made life worth bothering was crushed. And countless vampires still possessed the spark of vitality, of passion despite their unbeating hearts. She'd seen a few of the victims of those camps, less flesh than corpses a year dead, eyes like portals to despair, scuttling as if they feared some terrible punishment. They'd been crushed inside. They might live, but had they survived?  
  
There was a wraith thin figure moving slowly down the street. It was a slow, careful sort of motion, like someone too weak to go fast but to proud or worried or arrogant to show the weakness of wobbling or limping. She moved closer, curious. The crop of pale stubble and the easily visible vertebra revealed that this was one of the newly liberated, someone from a camp. Obviously, he wouldn't be dinner this night, none of them had enough flesh and blood to be worth taking. But he didn't move like so many of the others, no scuttling fearfully along the shadows. No, this one had come through with something left, was it pride? There was something about him, a feeling that she couldn't quite describe. But this man would not be a forgotten nobody, abandoned by life and history. She followed him, puzzled and curious.  
  
"You! It was because of vermin like you that our nation has fallen!" The angry man had a large mustache, and his eyes were made small by anger, the emotion turning his face red. He lifted a rifle in his hands menacingly. A slightly smaller, younger man was beside him, scowling at the thin figure.  
  
The younger man, his mustache still just a faint suggestion pushed the survivor, the force enough to send him crashing into a small car. "You are not welcome here."  
  
The thin man had crashed into the car, his hat falling to the ground revealing that he was indeed gaunt with starvation, but not terribly old despite his ancient looking eyes. Perhaps twenty in years, already ancient in suffering and pain. His eyes were a pale blue, like ice and his hair seemed to be white. His eyes held anger, anger that had been fed over time, swelling and growing. His anger was almost strong enough to taste.  
  
Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, glaring at his attackers. "I was just a boy when this started. I did nothing. Your nation has fallen because of swine like you."  
  
Growling obscenities, the mustache man aimed his gun at the near skeletal survivor, preparing to shoot. That was when things got strange.  
  
At a single gesture from a bony hand, the gun twisted around, curving on itself like a pretzel. The air was thick with energy, something that couldn't be seen, but it was felt, a prickling over flesh and into bones. Angry prejudice gave way to blind panic, and the mustache man and his younger companion, possibly a son or brother, ran away in fear.  
  
The young man was smiling, a coldly satisfied expression. He knew that he was the cause of their fear, and it seemed to almost make him happy.  
  
"Well, that's about the most interesting thing that I've seen in a long time." She smiled at him, still feeling the remnants of whatever strange power he'd used.  
  
He looked at her, his eyes wary, questioning. "Who are you? What do you want?"  
  
"Call me Darla. I have a dislike for men with more arrogance than sense, so that display of yours... it was something. I've never seen anything like it before." She tried to look harmless, uncertain what else he could do with that strange power.  
  
He looked at her, as if weighing her words. "I am Erik Lenscherr. What do you want with me?"  
  
"Nothing for now. But why don't you let me buy you a good dinner, as a thanks for making my night a bit more interesting." She offered the indication, certain that he could use the meal.  
  
"Dinner..." Erik's stomach growled at the suggestion of food. "That would be good."  
  
She'd lead him to a small restaurant, the owners too worried about making enough money to keep the place open to do more than glare briefly at her companion. She bought herself a cup of coffee, and a more substantial meal for Erik, wanting to be certain that for this night at least, he had all the food he could want. He'd been a bit surprised, looking at the menu almost awkwardly, hesitating for a long while before ordering.  
  
They hadn't spoke much once the food had arrived, instead, Darla held her coffee, peering into it's murky depths debating if she really wanted to drink any of it. Erik ate the food, each bite carefully chewed, but an over all rapidness to his movements that spoke of people taking food from him, of a long running acquaintance with hunger that was needlessly confirmed by his gauntness.  
  
He was sweeping up the last bits of gravy with a biscuit, and looked at Darla, his words a bit muffled. "Thank you. For the food."  
  
"You're welcome. But tell me, what do you intend to do? Now that you have the opportunity to choose." She was curious about his words, certain that the intensity of his anger would prevent young Erik from becoming another mindless cog in the machine of humanity.  
  
He looked thoughtful, his body almost entirely motionless as he considered her words, only the faint movement of his breathing, the flutter of his pulse betraying his living status. When he finally spoke, there was an intensity to his words that made a question of volume needless. Hardly above a whisper, the words burned into memory immediately. "I'm not quite certain yet. I want to make certain that nothing like this, no more attempts at genocide take place, no more mad men with power seeking to exterminate a people. But I'm not quite certain how to accomplish that yet. I don't know what I should study, what skills to learn."  
  
"What about that display earlier?" Darla felt herself tensing, more certain than ever that this young man had a future.  
  
He shook his head, eyes turning towards the future. "I'm not certain how much I can do with it. But it wouldn't be enough by itself. I would need... allies, influence, resources. All things that I do not have."  
  
"Yet."  
  
Erik looked startled, as if her word didn't quite make sense. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You don't have the skills, allies, or resources yet. I think, for you, it will just be a matter of time. I've seen raw determination make up for quite a lot, and if it can keep you alive through that dreadful nightmare, a simple matter of gaining skills and allies will be no difficulty at all. Regarding your skill... test it, hone it, master it. You have a power the likes of which I've never seen before... USE it. Master your abilities, and I can't think of anything that could stop you." She spoke to him, excitement burning inside of her. Erik would become formidable, she knew it inside. But not as a vampire, no, he would be a mortal force to inspire fear.   
  
He nodded, as if her words were soaking into his mind, germinating into plans and idea. "Yes... a matter of time. Given time and money, I can learn skills, learn to build things and how to take them apart, learn the workings of the mind... and find suitable allies. Time..." His steepled his fingers, looking over them into a future that only he could see, his cold eyes flickering with a hint of blue white energy.  
  
Darla smiled, leaving the money to pay for the meal on the table as she rose. "I'll be watching, Erik. I expect to hear all about your great deeds some day."  
  
"Give me time to gather resources and hone my skills, Darla, and you will see." He sounded confident now, apparently having believed her words of encouragement.  
  
"Time isn't a problem. Good luck." She smiled at him again as she left the tiny building.  
  
Erik would definitely make something of himself. She could hardly wait to find out what that something would be. In the meantime, there were two particularly well fed Germans to hunt down. If she was lucky, the taste of fear would still be in their blood.  
  
  
  
end Seeds of Destruction. 


	2. Deadly Crop

author: Lucinda

rated T for Teen, or Y-14.

main characters: Darla, Erik Lencsherr (Magneto)

disclaimer: Darla was created by Joss, Magneto belongs to Marvel.

distribution: any lists I send it to, Luba if she wants it, otherwise ask.

notes: Twisting's FfA pairing #1680. Sequel to Seeds of Destruction.

Darla leaned back in the lounge chair, reading the day's newspaper as she relaxed beside the hotel's swimming pool. The moon was nearly full, giving her more than enough light to read about what was going on in the world. Power plays in the legislature, corruption among the judges, actors having affairs... Really, it was just the same old stories with different names and a higher quality of picture.

One article caught her eye - a report on a failed attempt to capture the mutant terrorists calling themselves 'the Brotherhood of Mutants.' The soldiers had lost control of the situation when one of the mutants waved his hand and flipped their tank over, nearly crushing them. That sounded oddly familiar to her, a wave of a hand causing metal to act oddly. That young man after the war... What had his name been? Oh yes, Erik.

Had Erik done that? Had he gone from someone barely capable of defending himself from a pair of arrogant men with guns to flipping tanks onto soldiers with a wave of his hand? Were his hands still so thin and pale? Her lips curved into a thoughtful smile as she pondered the changes the years could have brought to Erik.

It seemed she had somewhere to go after she grew bored with this hotel. Someone to track down, a curious occurrence to investigate. A corner of her mind wondered if Erik might need another helpful moment of advice.

Inside, a large man was ranting about freaks, and how stupid it was for society to bend itself and accommodate them. If God had let someone be born feeble-witted, or with twisted limbs, or struck them down with illness, then either kill them or shut them away. He blustered and ranted, downing shots of potent alcohol with cinnamon.

Darla posed herself in the doorway, a few droplets of water falling down her breasts, her hair pulled back, the wrap almost sliding from her hips. She had the attention of every man except the old man asleep in the corner, and she knew it. Slowly, she sauntered across the room, moving as if she had no worries and didn't realize that she could have any man in the room with a smile and a crook of her finger. She kept glancing at the loudmouthed fool, and then glancing away, as if he'd fascinated her with his wide shoulders and large mustache.

He actually had the wit to follow at a distance, instead of storming after her. She made certain that he was able to tell what room she was using, and then settled herself to wait. He wanted her, and was too much of an impatient fool not to try to take what he wanted. She was counting on it, in fact.

She had changed out of the swimming wear, letting the wrap fall over a chair and slipped on a silken robe. The door opened while she was brushing her hair, and as the man locked himself inside, she remembered to fix an expression of surprise on her face. "Who...?"

"This is what you wanted, what we both want." The arrogant words emerged, and then he was there, pulling her up from the chair to crush his lips to hers. A human woman would have been helplessly caught in his grip, unable to protest effectively.

His hands moved over her body, and she managed to get her hand up, running fingers through his hair. It was almost a pity that so few men had hair long enough to use as a handle, and this man's hair was too short for a good grip, but that would just mean she had to hold a bit on his skull as well. Grasping, she pulled his head back and sank her teeth into his throat, enjoying the change from lustful dominance to shocked fear and denial. He couldn't believe and accept what was happening, even as he sank into fatal unconsciousness.

She managed to send his corpse down the laundry chute. The sound of his fall would be muffled by the used sheets and towels, and nobody would look for a while. Even when they did, it would be hard to figure out where he'd died, and who might have been responsible for the dropping of the corpse.

Darla would be long gone before those questions were resolved.

If she'd been more focused on style instead of results, she would have been insulted by how simple it was to determine where the 'evil mutants' were hiding. Being more practical than that, the news that they were lurking in a cave system with more access points than Paris made things so much simpler. If she could get into the caves, she would not only be safe from the sunlight, but she could wait for a good moment to see what sort of man Erik had become.

The few soldiers still searching through the surrounding areas made wonderful meals, and one or two were even interesting for a while beforehand. But she didn't dally too much, and slipped into the caves. A wise person would investigate the potential opposition before making contact, and that's what she intended to do.

There was Erik, older, with more hair and nice muscles, and a boy of maybe sixteen that might have been Erik, if life had been less cruel. There was a girl of the same age with dark red curls that reeked of magic and spoke that horrible gypsy language, and Darla had to resist the urge to find her and rip out her tongue on general principle. If she couldn't kill the gypsies that had cursed her Angelus again, another would be just as entertaining. But she had more serious matters to focus on first. There was a man in a faded green cloak who kept muttering passages from Shakespeare, who she dismissed as little difficulty in her observations. A strange, hunched figure of a man proved to be able to leap like some sort of human frog, and they called him Toad. She still couldn't figure anything out about the unamused Asian woman in armor.

Finally, she found Erik alone, making a group of small metal disks circle over his hand. She stepped into the cavern he was practicing in, and smiled, "That's a bit more complicated than turning guns into pretzels, isn't it."

He spun around, the bits of metal hovering, and focused on her, eyes searching for details. His voice faltered as he whispered, "Darla? You look… remarkably good."

"And you've put on a bit of weight." She moved closer, letting her eyes rove over his body. "It looks good. Almost delicious, actually."

"Thank you, I think," he was frowning at her, and made a gesture towards the forest. "How did you get here?"

"You weren't that hard to find, and I just… removed the soldiers. It's rather simple to do, actually." She leaned against a wall, and smiled, not trying to keep the harmless mask in place. "You were in the paper."

"Why are you here, Darla?"

The bits of metal were spinning, and the feeling of energy was rising, prickling on her skin. "You want to make them listen to you. You need someone willing to handle the people they'll send to kill you."

"What makes you say that?" He wasn't arguing, but he did look surprised. "Why do I have the feeling you're about to make a suggestion?"

"I told you, you made the newspaper headlines." Her smile held a trace of dismay. "It seems that 'Magneto' has become the new boogey-man for the world. Since you've taken my place, I wanted to check in."

For a moment, he was silent, but that prickly feeling passed through her, causing an odd chill. With a mix of fear and surprise, he sputtered, "You aren't human."

"Vampire." She folded her arms just under her breasts, smiling as his gaze settled there. "I used to be human, now I'm not. I told you years ago that I thought you could go far in this world, now I think I might want to help out. What humans fear, they try to destroy, and you've frightened them. They'll send soldiers and assassins, and I can help you with some of those little problems."

"Dare I ask how?" One eyebrow lifted, and a hint of a smile played over his lips.

"It's simple really," Darla smiled, and licked her lips. "I kill them before they kill you. I win, you win."

The smile that blossomed was all the sign that she needed to know that he'd accepted her offer. "You make a lovely bodyguard, though I doubt that would be anyone's first thought on seeing you."

She chuckled, and sauntered towards him. "I can guess what they'd think, and I know that game very well. Men expecting nothing more than a bed-companion won't expect me to be any danger. The shock and denial makes a nice flavor."

"The governments won't stand a chance," he chuckled. "Old tricks can still be very useful, and they probably won't think you can even think beyond who can offer the most advantage."

Running her finger over his cheek, she purred, "I know you can keep things very interesting."

End Seeds of Destruction 2: Deadly Crop.


End file.
